


Light-Fingered

by redscudery



Series: Redscudery's Rare Pair Bazaar [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Biting, Breaking and Entering, Clothing Kink, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Girls Kissing, Mrs. Hudson's an enabler, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Red Pants Monday, Roleplay, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:16:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery/pseuds/redscudery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janine steals something...then asks Irene to play a role.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light-Fingered

“You did not!” Irene’s eyebrows were sky-high.  
“I did. I couldn’t help it, love, it was just too tempting.”  
“How did you…through the window?”  
“Nah. I told Mrs. Hudson I’d forgotten something.” Janine grinned, “She might have suspected, but she’s up for anything, that one, so she let me in.”  
“Show me!”  
“What, you think I’m wearing them now?”  
“I do. You are transparent as can be.” Irene’s fingers were already pulling at the waistband of Janine’s skirt. Janine stepped back.  
“Ah, but first you have to do the thing. I’m not giving it up that easily.” Janine said.  
“If I were any less secure in myself, I’d be offended by how often you want this.” Irene answered, but she stood up, cleared her throat, and, fixing Janine with a piercing stare, began to speak.  
“There’s a margin for error but I’m pretty sure there’s a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it’s going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I’ve only been on the case for eight seconds.”  
“Ooooh.” Janine mock-shivered, but her pupils were dilated; she unsnapped her skirt and dropped it to the ground.  
“Not giving it up that easily?” Irene laughed, but she stopped. She’d expected to find the sight of Janine in John’s pants funny, but the contrast of the red against Janine’s sleek gold skin was more mouthwatering than ludicrous. She reached out to touch, gripping Janine’s hips and feeling the cotton slide between her fingers.  
“More,” Janine breathed closing her eyes.  
“These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look: there’s no letter ‘I’ because it can be mistaken for a ‘1’; no letters past ‘K’ – the width of the plane is the limit.” Irene said, sitting on the edge of the bed and kissing Janine’s belly before inching the pants off her hips, just a little. Janine squirmed, trying to get her to pull them down further.  
“The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together.” Irene waited for Janine to exhale before softly kissing the gentle swell of her sex underneath the fabric. She stroked the delicate skin between Janine’s thighs, which elicited a soft exhale. Janine grasped the edge of the bureau. “Go on.”  
“ Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter ‘K’ or rows past fifty-five, which is why there’s always an upstairs.” Irene paused again, this time to press her lips to the soft damp cotton, breathing hotly. Janine pressed towards her lips, knees trembling; Irene pulled back and Janine hummed her displeasure.  
“I was going to take these all the way down, but I think you should suffer a little longer, now.” Irene’s voice was mock-stern as she let go of the waistband. She hesitated, looking up into Janine’s half-closed eyes, then, with great deliberation, sank her teeth into the plush flesh of Janine’s middle thigh. Janine squeaked in pleasure, her noises growing louder and louder as Irene moved up. When she was but one bite from the dampening fabric of the red pants, she made as if to move away.  
“No.” Janine insisted, threading her hands through Irene’s hair, disarranging it. She pulled Irene’s face closer. Irene submitted, briefly, biting through the fabric until Janine sighed, long and soft. When her grip on Irene’s hair relaxed, Irene resumed her way down the other thigh, ending with one bite around the knee that made Janine gasp and giggle.  
“There’s a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there’s the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more”  
“Irene!”  
“So you do know my name. I was beginning to wonder.”  
Irene rubbed the pad of her thumb across the fabric and Janine wriggled. She replaced her thumb with her mouth, breathing warm again before working the pants aside and tasting the salt sweetness of Janine’s body.  
“Oh!” Janine’s knees gave way and Irene spun her around and helped her fall to the bed. As Janine lay back, Irene pulled the pants down her thighs to her knees, then stood back to survey her work. Janine was splayed out, her head thrown back, her back arched, and her legs as open as the pants would allow. Irene grinned.  
“And assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information…”  
“Please!” Janine’s voice was husky, insistent, and Irene felt her own knees weaken and sank to the floor. Spread out before her, so very willing, Janine was utterly irresistible. Bending forward, she touched the tip of her tongue to the soft flesh. Janine’s shiver of response had subsided, Irene licked with the flat of her tongue from bottom to top, once, twice, and three times. Janine’s hips rolled towards her, imploring her, and Irene brushed her mouth across Janine’s clitoris. Even from there, Irene could feel the tension building in Janine’s body, and continued,  
“…assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent…” She slid her finger inside her and sucked, hard, and Janine came apart, calling out and convulsing.  
Irene didn’t stop until Janine was limp underneath her, begging her to stop. When she finally looked up, she said,  
“The only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport.” Irene finished, looking up from the glorious golden crumple of Janine’s exhausted body, “But you don’t need to tell me how marvelous I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> The lines from "A Scandal In Belgravia" appear courtesy of Ariane de Vere's legendary transcripts over on livejournal: http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/26848.html


End file.
